


Trust Is a Four Letter Word

by NovemberOcean (Twilighthawke)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition Characters - Fandom, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: ANGRY tabris, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Modern AU, krem is a trans teenager and has understandable trust issue, leliana is SCARY and i LOVE her, morrigan is socially awkward, okay maybe not GRAPHIC descriptions of violence but brutal fighting is a major plot point
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twilighthawke/pseuds/NovemberOcean
Summary: Emiliea Tabris is content if not happy in her life. Sleep, work, gym, sleep, repeat. That is, until the nosey manager of said gym got involved in her life and Emiliea had to admit that she has feelings. However, Emiliea as a dark past that she is desperately trying to outrun. Can she really have friendships (or even dare to love) if she is constantly lying about her past? Find out NEXT week on Dragon Ball-- i mean this fanfiction!
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sten/Female Tabris (Dragon Age), Sten/Female Warden (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEY-YO!! ive been thirsty for Sten for 17 gregorian years! join me

Emiliea pushed open the door of the gym with one aching arm; the other holding her phone as she searched for the perfect mood music for her walk home. It was already dark though it was barely 8pm. Maker, Emiliea hated southern cities; all of them were cold as fuck. She pulled her flimsy coat tighter around her and adjusted her scarf. Under her coat she wore her grey work out hoodie and grey sweatpants. Hardly protection from the bitter wind.

Deciding she would need some vitriol if she was gonna make it home in this weather, she put on a Frank Turner song and started walking.

Only to be stopped immediately my someone grabbing and yanking her headphones out of her ears. Outraged, she turned to see the perpetrator; a pale man with a comb-over leered at her.

"I'm trying to talk to you," he whined in a way that was supposed to be teasing or flirting or something. Emiliea guessed he had been waiting near the door for a victim, and when whatever cat calls he had tried hadn't got her attention, he'd felt the need to help himself to her precious time.

"Fuck right off," Emiliea told him. She wasn't in the mood. She would never be in the mood. Comb-over man's face twisted in a scowl.

"I'm just being friendly," he said, grabbing her arm when she started to move away from him. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"

"Get your hand off of me," Emiliea snarled, her already short patience wearing even thinner.

"Don't be like that," he told her; and before she could jerk her arm away, he made a move to touch her face.

Emiliea punched him in his stupid face. As he reeled back, clutching his definitely broken nose, Emiliea swept his legs out from beneath him. Had she been a good person, she would have left it at that. Say something about learning a life lesson and leave the letch bleeding on the sidewalk. Emiliea was not a good person.

She kicked him in his exposed gut. As he crumpled in on himself, she knelt and grabbed the collar of his coat and hauled him up to hit him in the face again. And then again, and she would have continued indefinitely had a large hand not closed on her wrist.

Whirling around, she looked up to face her new assailant. And then had to look up further as the man before her was easily 7ft tall and Emiliea was barely 5ft. Sten Berasaad stood in front of her, violet eyes regarding her cooly. Sten owned the gym Emiliea attended, but they hadn't spoken much. Emiliea wasn't social.

Her shock wearing off, Emiliea snatched her hand back. Sten didn't fight her.

"I have already called the police," Sten said, in that voice that seemed to lack any accent. "I suggest you stop before they decide to arrest you instead."

Emiliea just glared at him and bent to whip her bloody knuckles on the pervert's shirt. The pathetic toad whimpered and curled into the fetal position. Something about what Sten said made her turn back to him.

"Wait, when did you call the cops?" Emiliea asked. "While the creep was assaulting me? You just watched?"

Sten raised one white eyebrow.

"Had I wished to, you would have beaten me to it," he deadpanned; the motherfucker had made a pun. Then, after a pause, he continued. "I already had my phone out. Other members have been concerned about someone lurking around the gym after dark. One of the members told me they caught a glimpse of someone lurking as they checked in tonight, so i was prepared to take action."

"Just not action to defend the poor female he targeted," Emiliea rolled her eyes. "Feminism at its finest." She had no leg to stand on and they both knew it. She had been denied her fight so she was picking a new one. Sten drew his lips into a line, contrasting his white birthmarks against the rest of his dark skin.

Sten had Vitiligo (Emiliea had to google it when they had first met). His face was a Rorschach test gone wild. He had mostly white hair, because of the birthmarks, but with shocks of dark hair in his cornrows. standing there in his muscle shirt with the gym logo printed on the front, he looked dope as hell. She was too pissed off to appreciate the gun show though.

"Whatever," Emiliea turned slightly away to pull a pack of gum out of her pocket. "I probably would have gone through you to get to him." Her therapist suggested the gum as a tension reliever and as a way to stop Emiliea from grinding her teeth. She crammed the stick of gum into her mouth and crumpled the wrapper into her pocket as she turned to walk up the street with a careless wave in Sten's direction.

"You'll stay to give the officer a statement," Sten said and Emiliea froze. It wasn't a question. Her gut dropped to her sneakers and she slowly turned back to face him. Emiliea didn't do cops.

"You know, they'd believe it if you said you smashed his face in," she suggested but she was mostly joking. She was barely acquainted with Sten. He had no reason to take the fall for her.

"I, for one, do not make it a habit to lie to police." Sten's expression hardly changed, but his tone spoke volumes. He was goading her. Ass.

She seriously considered kicking the pervert at her feet in frustration. The disgusting man was out cold. In a selfish way, she was glad he was a serial offender. Otherwise it would just have been her word against his, and he was the one with the bruises.

Soon, a squad car pulled up to the curb and a handsome guy in police blue stepped out. Emiliea tried not to tense like an animal ready to run. She didn't trust handsome guys, and she trusted cops even less.

"Good evening officer," Sten greeted the man, offering his hand to shake.

Sten took the lead, even helped the officer cram the unconscious man into the back of the squad car. Officer handsome took notes dutifully and collected their contact information. Emiliea didn't speak more than she had to, and didn't look the cop in the eyes.

When the cop pulled away from the curb, Emiliea was already halfway down the street. She needed to get home and call her parole officer. She was so not looking forward to that phone call.

When she got home though, Emiliea went to sleep instead of making the call. She was a big baby who had had a trying night right after her workout. Sue her.

Unfortunately, her problems were still there when she woke the next morning. She rolled outta bed, almost tempted to just fall on the floor and roll to the bathroom. Her muscles still ached from her actual workout last night, and her knuckles were defeintly starting to show bruises. Emiliea decided to postpone her shower, as she would need a cigarette for the phonecall she was about to make. Cringing, she dialed the number. As it rang, she leaned over her kitchen sink to open the tiny window there.

"Aveline," the terse voice on the other end picked up. Emiliea pulled a cigarette from a pack she kept by her sink and took a deep breath.

"Its me," Emiliea said, striking a match.

"I have caller ID, Emiliea," Aveline told her, matter-of-factly. "What happened?"

Emiliea leaned out her window, enjoying the smell of toxic chemicals coming from the bad idea between her fingertips. She had managed not to pick up the habit during her time in Calenhad Penitentiary, but she still found the smell of cigarettes grounded her when she started to panic. The city below her hummed to life. She flicked her ashes at it.

"I can't just call my favorite authority figure?" Emiliea deflected.

"You could, you don't," Aveline said flatly. "What happened?"

Emiliea sighed.

"I may have stopped a molestation too soon," she said. There was a pause, as Aveline tried to puzzle out what the fuck that could mean.

"Who's molestation?" Was the question Aveline chose to lead with.

"Mine. I broke his nose before he could really do anything," Emiliea answered. Aveline groaned on the other end.

"So you're okay?" Aveline asked, after a long moment. Emiliea smiled. As parole officers went, Aveline was the best. She actually seemed to care about the fuckups she was in charge of. Although that care was usually paired with a healthy dose of disapproval.

"Yeah, the gym manager stopped me before I could break any ribs." Emiliea held the cigarette a little closer to her face, taking a slightly deeper breath.

"Did he witness the altercation?" Aveline asked.

"Yeah, he made me stay for the cops to show up," Emiliea scowled. Asshole. Making her obey the law. Rude.

There was the sound of rustling papers on Aveline's side of the phone.

"Give me his name and the number of your gym. I might not have to contact him, but I'd like the option," Aveline ordered. She was in full blown damage control mode.

Emiliea gave her Sten's name and the gym's number. Then she gave the name of the officer who'd carted off the pervert. Her cigarette about half burned then, she tapped it absently in her fingers.

"Is this gonna go on my record?" Emiliea asked, voice embarrassingly small.

"I'll have to make note of it, but it won't go on official record," Aveline reassured her. Emiliea let out a breath she didn't remember holding.

"Thanks," Emiliea said.

"Don't thank me," Aveline warned, not unkindly. "Just don't do it again."

Emiliea laughed humorlessly.

"I promise not to get assaulted again?" Emiliea phrased it as a question. "I'm sure that wont happen in the worst neighborhood in Denirim."

"Don't you have work to get to?" Aveline asked, pointedly.

Emiliea groaned and put out her cigarette. She needed to shower. Can't show up at her soul crushing desk job smelling like the convict she was. She and Aveline said their goodbyes and Emiliea set about preparing for work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Morrigan, tech whiz and scary goth. and Iron Bull the fitness instructor.

Morrigan met her at the subway station, customary glare on her face.

"Hey, I'm not even late," Emiliea protested. She didn't add 'this time'. She knew Morrigan was already thinking it.

Emiliea was not sure how she ended up friends with Morrigan. Emiliea wasnt social, but Morrigan made her look like a fuckin socialite. They'd met when Emiliea first started working at the office. She was being harassed by some of her new coworkers. It was probably supposed to be playful ribbing, but Emiliea was violently disinterested in what they were saying. Before she could do something to get herself fired, Morrigan had appeared out of nowhere.

One look at her and Emiliea's new 'friends' evaporated. Emiliea almost wished she'd followed them when she got a look at Morrigan herself. She wore dark lipstick and equally dark eyeshadow. The neckline of her white ruffled shirt was low enough to show off several tasteful necklaces. Her charcoal pencil skirt ended just below her knees and her shoes were startlingly high heels.

Unsure whether to thank her or bow or something, Emiliea just introduced herself and extended her hand to shake.

And somehow that turned into hanging out in the break room and at company parties. Morrigan was apparently an I.T. wizard, and always dressed like a gothic secretary. When it turned out they took the same subway to work, it sorta became a thing.

"I think I figured out whats wrong with your computer," Morrigan said as they stepped into the crowded car. Somehow they found a place to sit. Emiliea suspected that was somehow Morrigan's influence. The woman exuded 'dont fuck with me' energy. Emiliea exuded 'anyone else gonna have this last donut' energy.

"Is the problem somewhere between the keyboard and the chair?" Emiliea deadpanned.

"Thats a separate problem," Morrigan smirked.

They spent the rest of the train ride bitching about work. Morrigan was witty and sarcastic, and didn't ask personal questions. Best friend ever.

When they arrived, they split to their separate desks. Emiliea tried not to groan too loudly as she sat at her desk. Sounds of abject misery were frowned on in the office. Trying to think about her next paycheck, she started answering emails.

That's when her cellphone rang. She quickly left her desk to scurry into the supply closet. Heart pounding she hit the answer button.

"Hello?" She said, praying for a telemarketer.

"Miss Tabris?" The voice on the other end asked.

"Speaking," Emiliea said, hope dwindling.

"This is officer Theirin, we met last night?"

Fuck.

Emiliea couldn't concentrate the rest of the day. Officer Theirin asked her to come in to the station to give a full statement and sign some paperwork. It sounded like the standard procedure, but she'd been surprised before. She left an hour earlier than normal. She didn't even have to make up an excuse to give Morrigan who apparently planned to work late. Emiliea was fairly sure Morrigan wouldn't bat an eye if she did tell her abour last night's encounter, but Emiliea still didn't want to.

Officer Theirin was very charming, joking with her as she filled out the forms. Turned out that the creep already had like 50 harassment complaints. To her relief, they hadn't looked into her record. The judge, Vivienne had had it sealed due to extenuating circumstances. Emiliea didn't want to know what Vivienne would do her if she did something to get it unsealed.

So it was a motherfucking Wednesday and for the second day in a row, Emiliea was hitting the gym. Her entire body was wound tighter than a spring. She either needed to punch something, or fuck something. And Emiliea didnt do casual sex. So she got off the subway one stop early to hit up the gym.

She nodded at the sullen man behind the desk. Fenris usually taught a krav magra class every other day, but apparently he also manned the desk occasionally. He waved back, dispassionately.

Ben "The Iron Bull" Hassrath used to be an MMA fighter. Did pretty well for himself apparently. He didn't talk about it unless it was to say that he didn't do that anymore. Emiliea suspected he was banned for mafia connections or some shit. Bull, as he prefers to be called, may look like a total meathead, but the man was cunning like a fox. He had figured out Emiliea was an ex-con the first day she attended his class. That had been a tense evening; but Bull didn't treat her any differently, so Emiliea tried not to think about it.

"Pumpkin!" Bull exclaimed when he saw her. Bull had nicknames for everyone. The man was 7 feet tall and built like a brick shithouse; deceptive softness concealing corded muscles. He could take her down before she could say uncle, so she never tried to confront him on the cutesie title.

She'd asked him once why she was specifically "Pumpkin" and he replied that she was round and burned with rage. When she had protested that that would make her "Jack O' Lantern" Bull had just laughed.

"Hey, Bull," Emiliea greeted the large man. She had already retrieved her gloves and wrappings from her locker, and started wrapping her hands.

"Didn't expect to see you back so soon," Bull said. Emiliea glanced at him, sidelong. Did he know about last night? "You never come in two days in a row." Bull winked at her. Okay, so he knew, but wasn't gonna call her out on it. Still not disproving that mafia theory.

"Bad day," Emiliea said. "Need to dish out some punishment." She punctuated her statement by punching her fists together.

Bull laughed a good belly-laugh. It was the kind of laugh that old Celtic kings had. It always made her smile, despite herself. She had precious few things to smile about.

An hour later, sore but satisfied, Emiliea pushed open the door to the outside. She reached into her pocket for her earbuds and came up empty.

"Ah, fuck me!" Emiliea swore. She'd left them at her desk.

"Not tonight, I've got a headache," a deep voice startled Emiliea.

Emiliea tried to calm her galloping heartbeat as she turned to see Sten standing to the left of the entrance. 7" tall calico cat lookin motherfucker, you'd think he'd stand out.

"The fuck you doing out here, scaring people?" Emiliea demanded.

"Going home," Sten replied shortly.

"You live close?" Emiliea asked, not super interested in the answer. Sten shrugged.

"Neat, nice talking with you," Emiliea scowled, brushing past him to descend the stairs to the sidewalk... Only to feel the big wall of muscle that was Sten on her heels. She turned around to glare at him, but he didn't even look her way. He acted for all the world, like he was walking home alone.

"You need me to walk you home little lady?" Emiliea sneered. She didn't need chivalry or whatever the fuck caused men to walk women home. In fact, she had proved that she was what people needed protection from last night.

"You're the one following me," Sten said.

"No I'm--" Emiliea started, affronted, when Sten lengthened his strides to overtake her until suddenly she was the one following him.

"Asshole," Emiliea grumbled through her teeth. She was not a sprinter, she didn't do jogging or powerwalking or whatever. And there was no way in hell she was just gonna stop on the freezing street and wait for him to fuck off. If he wanted to stay ahead of her, she had to let him.

Emiliea lived about a 30 minute walk from the gym. Sten managed to stay about ten feet in front of her, though he crossed the street a few times. About a block and a half from her house, Sten made a wrong turn.

'Ah ha' Emiliea gloated inwardly. 'Ya done messed up you overbearing bastard.'

When she locked the door to her apartment behind her, she considered Sten. Strange or even familiar men following women home without their consent was bad news. Weird how he hadn't followed her the whole way though. Maybe he really did live nearby.

Whatever. For some reason it didn't raise any red flags for Emiliea. And Emiliea always saw red flags. Instead, she was mostly just annoyed he was playing white knight or whatever.

Maybe she wasn't afraid of Sten.

She quickly buried that thought deep down in her repressed feelings box. Of course she wasn't afraid of Sten. Emiliea wasn't afraid of anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my target audience is me and that bitch aint happy with NOTHIN

**Author's Note:**

> Alright imma say this once cuz i feel like if i apologize at the end of every chapter it'll get tedious and or insincere  
> i am a solidly middle class skinny white woman. my main character is a low class fat latina.  
> I am trying my best.
> 
> PLEASE comment. i would love to hear from yall. tell me if you think that i need to tag something that i havent already


End file.
